


To Speed Where There is Space Enough

by Lokei



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Dragons, F/M, M/M, Mating Flight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokei/pseuds/Lokei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>O to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last!<br/>— Walt Whitman, <i>One Hour to Madness and Joy</i>, 1860.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Speed Where There is Space Enough

**Author's Note:**

> For the J/D Promptathon 2011.  
> Prompt: Crossover with McCaffrey's Pern. First mating flight ever between two bronzes or between a bronze and a green/brown/whatever-works-for-Daniel, Jack being the bronze rider, Daniel the other.
> 
> It’s been a while since I read any Pern canon, so please forgive any serious breaches of accepted notions of Weyr personalities and traditions. Fortunately, nothing’s been written about the 7th Pass, so I’m not screwing anything up too royally. Many thanks as always to the gracious PrincessofGeeks for her beta work.

==================================  
O to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last!  
— Walt Whitman, _One Hour to Madness and Joy_ , 1860.  
==================================

 _High Reaches Weyr, 10th Turn of the 7th Pass of the Red Star_

“And you have all the help you’ve needed to deal with the extra mouths to feed?”

“Oh yes, Weyrleader. No one will ever find the hospitality of High Reaches Weyr lacking, no matter what the occasion.” Headwoman Arminna was clearly torn between indignation at the implication that she couldn’t handle a few extra Riders coming in from Telgar Weyr, and pleasure that the Weyrleader had thought to ask. A look at his face tipped the balance, however.

“I could send up something hot for you, Weyrleader?”

He mustered up a smile. “No need, thank you. I’ll be down for dinner with the others shortly.”

She nodded and bustled out of the chamber, leaving him to drop his head tiredly to his arms. A few moments later the heavy door to his room creaked open again and a warm, callused hand cupped his neck while its partner placed a pitcher of warmed spiced wine on the table.

The Weyrleader raised his head and tipped it to look up into the clear blue eyes of his Wingleader D’nel.

“All well, Jack?” his friend asked with an understanding half-smile.

“The better for the current company,” J’thon answered, kicking out the chair opposite him in welcome. “The wine was a good idea too.”

D’nel grinned. “Some of Benden’s finest. Nothing but the best for the illustrious J’thon.”

“Oh, don’t you start,” J’thon groaned. “You’ve never paid the slightest dues to my rank in private and only rarely in public. Why ruin your record?”

“I take it you’ve had a long meeting with the new members of our Weyr, all formalities intact, then,” D’nel poured them each a goblet and studied his friend’s worn face. “Samartha seems like a capable and astute woman, even if she does seem a little stiff right now. She’ll make a good Weyrwoman. Attractive, too.”

J’thon shrugged. “All true.” He tried to keep his face neutral but D’nel knew him too well, and the other bronze rider’s long-abandoned but well-remembered Harper training meant that D’nel could read him like an upturned scroll.

“No one will ever be able to replace Sarrah and Helieth, I know,” he said quietly. “But there isn’t a dragonrider on Pern who doesn’t understand needing to put the good of the Weyr first. That’s why you’re Weyrleader, the best we’ve had in Turns.”

J’thon snorted. “If I still am by the end of the sevenday.”

D’nel stilled. “You think Jolinath will rise that soon? The Telgar wing have only had a few days to settle in.”

“That Weyrlingmaster they brought seems pretty certain of it.”

D’nel frowned. “That’s T’elk, right? Rider of brown Chulath?”

J’thon nodded and D’nel chuckled in recognition. “He is quite forceful. And formal. No wonder you look run over by a rampaging herdbeast, Jack.”

The Weyrleader glared at the image that provoked. “Gee, thanks, _Daniel_.”

D’nel sipped his wine and smirked. “Once a harper, always…”

“A thorn in my side,” Jack finished.

“Wouldn’t be if some oaf hadn’t dumped me head over heels into the hatching sands,” Daniel retorted mildly. It was an old argument.

“I was simply helping out some harp-brained lump who froze when there was a dragonet crying for him.”

“I did not _freeze_.”

“You just had no intention of being a dragon rider. I remember.” Jack stared into his goblet moodily. “You could have been MasterHarper Daniel by now, instead. You ever regret it?”

“I didn’t much appreciate the sand up my breeches at the time, but miss out on what I have with Skaarath? Miss out on life here at High Reaches? Never. No regrets at all.”

 _I am glad you pushed him. And so is he._ Jack startled a little to hear Skaarath’s voice. D’nel’s bronze was garrulous, according to D’nel, but Skaarath rarely chose to speak to any of the other riders. Jack was the occasional exception.

He and D’nel made a lot of exceptions for each other. That was probably why D’nel was the only one who had been able to get through to J’thon after Sarrah and Helieth were lost _between_ , and the only one who called him by his nickname, just as Jack was the only one to remember and use the name D’nel had borne as a journeyman harper up until that fateful day at the hatching grounds.

“Three Turns without a resident queen and Weyrwoman is too long for the good of the Weyr, Jack,” Daniel uncannily slipped into the current of Jack’s thoughts as he often did. “If Jolinath rises this sevenday, so much the better. The others will take it as a good sign. And you know you can use the help, even as well as things have been going.”

“You’re still assuming that Thoroth will catch her,” Jack pointed out.

“Won’t he?”

Jack met Daniel’s gaze steadily. “Skaarath could beat him.”

Daniel shook his head. “I’ve never wanted to replace you as Weyrleader, Jack.”

It was a moot point and they both knew it. If there was one truth understood about mating flights in any Weyr anywhere on the Northern continent, it was this: the dragon decides, the rider complies.

= = = = = =

Spending time with D’nel was usually soothing, but nothing seemed to relieve the itch under J’thon’s skin, even when they decided to skip dinner after all in favor of a hike around the Seven Spindles and a covert attack on the kitchens afterwards. Bidding D’nel a good night at the entrance to his weyr, J’thon headed for his and Thoroth’s weyr, craving a simpler kind of comfort.

In the firestone-scented dimness, the bronze’s huge eyes whirled at him.

 _You are skittish as a runnerbeast tonight_ , the dragon observed. Jack rolled his eyes and went to lean against Thoroth’s warm flank.

“It’s been a long day,” he muttered.

 _But one without Threadfall._

“A small mercy. Though I’d rather be out flaming Thread than sit through another ‘how do we integrate the new wing’ council. Much as I appreciate Telgar sending over some fresh fighters along with their spare queen, I could wish they’d be a little less resistant to the idea of splitting up to flesh out the wings we already fly. M’chell is about ready to pound some of the new folk into fishbait for their attitude, and Wingleader’s authority or no, it won’t make the transition any easier.”

 _Perhaps Jolinath’s flight will help to make us all less strangers to each other,_ Thoroth’s mental voice was amused and a little sly.

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s unusually devious of you.”

 _I learned it from you._ There was a pause. _Also, I have been talking to D’nel._

“Oh you have, have you?”

 _He has asked Vala to help be an ambassador to the new riders. She is very good at getting people to talk._

Jack snorted. Vala had the strength of will of half a wing all by herself, and if she’d Impressed a gold instead of green Keteth, she’d have been a Weyrwoman to reckon with. As it was, she’d been infuriating other riders and filling in as a wingsecond in D’nel’s wing since F’gran was scored with Thread last Fall and was grounded until he healed.

Neither Daniel or Vala were big on playing by the rules.

Jack admired them both for it, but wondered a little whether the more tradition-bound Telgar riders would know how to deal with Vala as a welcoming overture.

“Well, if they survive Vala’s idea of making them feel at home, then they’ve got a good chance,” Jack muttered.

 _Chulath likes her. He says she and Keteth are ‘formidable.’ And B’rac is happy to have someone to take over as Weyrlingmaster. He says T’elk is good with the weyrlings._

“So that’s one import we don’t have to worry about,” Jack summarized. “And Jolinath?”

 _She is very clever. She reminds me of Helieth._

Jack closed his eyes. “You’ll want to fly with her, then.” He tried not to think about Sarrah, but it was inevitable. They had been weyrmates before she became Weyrwoman, and after Helieth’s second rise, no dragon but Thoroth had ever been able to catch her. Inexplicably, Jack found his thoughts jumping from Sarrah’s exhausted, blissful face to D’nel’s frown of concentration last time Helieth flew. Jack had barely noticed at the time, but the other bronze rider had looked almost in pain, as if he were fighting the exhilaration rushing over the bond between dragon and rider.

Or as if he’d been fighting his dragon. If that were possible.

 _Skaarath is a fine dragon,_ Thoroth mused. _He too is very clever. And he and D’nel are very loyal to you._

D’nel had never taken a weyrmate. Though not, Jack knew, for lack of offers. And Jack had never asked how the other rider dealt with the emotional backwash of a mating flight.

For Jack, wrapped up in Sarrah, mating flights used to be fun as well as part of the life of the Weyr. They were an excuse to drop Weyr business, to have a day or three of irresponsible reveling between the sheets, and by the time the four of them resurfaced from the aftermath, the business of High Reaches would be grinding away as usual, ready for its weyrleaders to resume command.

And D’nel was always there with the report of Jack’s missing days—training flight analyses, news from other Weyrs or the nearby Holds, whatever J’thon needed to know. He’d offer a few gentle jibes about Thoroth’s flying skills, a warm hand on Jack’s shoulder and a warmer smile, and that would be all.

Yet when the greens rose to mate, did Skaarath ever fly then? J’thon wasn’t entirely sure; he’d assumed so, but never enquired. Now he wondered. Vala and Keteth were good friends to D’nel and Skaarath, so it was possible that they had shared a flight, or had even sought each other out during Jolinath’s flights. On the other hand, Vala was as open as D’nel was private, and somehow Jack thought he might have heard if the green rider had managed to get the handsome bronze rider to pay her that sort of attention. She was always trying to get D’nel to lose a little of his impressive self-control.

Speaking of control…

“Could Skaarath have lost on purpose?”

It was a foolish, idle question, and Jack was expecting a ‘no.’ Dragons, especially bronzes, did not give up the chase.

Thoroth, however, was silent a long time. _I do not know. My attention was elsewhere._

Jack snorted. That was an understatement. “And this time?”

 _I cannot choose to lose. However, anything could happen._

That was not particularly helpful, but it was, at least, predictably Thoroth, and the shred of comfort that provided was enough to send the Weyrleader back to his own bed appeased.

= = = = = = =

“Wingleader D’nel?” The gold rider’s voice was low and clear and the smile on her face was one of genuine interest. “Am I interrupting?”

D’nel looked up from the records he was perusing and then stood, nodding to the future Weyrwoman. “Of course not,” he answered with a welcoming smile. “How can I help you?”

Samartha pointed at the records on the table between them. “Headwoman Arminna told me that in addition to your usual duties, you had been helping with some of the Weyr’s more domestic concerns. She suggested I come get better acquainted with them. And with you.”

The implications of such a statement could not be lost on any bronze rider, let alone one of the intellectual caliber of D’nel. Less than a sevenday in her new home and Samartha was sussing out the candidates for Weyrleader. J’thon glowered at the cosy couple they presented, one russet head and one golden bent over a pair of klah mugs and a bundle of papers between them. He couldn’t fault her for her canniness, but as he stood frozen in the door of the council chamber, D’nel’s replacement mug of klah cooling in his hand, he did resent the loss of his usual morning routine.

Well, shards.

J’thon went to pester M’chell about that new flight configuration he wanted to try. M’chell had been flighty as a firelizard as a weyrling, but as he and his bronze Sodanth matured, they had become not only rock solid in their Wingleader position, but full of interesting tactical innovations for Thread fighting. J’thon was hoping now that the Wingleader’s enthusiastic scribbles and diagrams would knock the image of D’nel and Samartha leaning closer and closer right out of his head.

That would, of course, be the point at which Thoroth would stick his dragonly snout into things.

 _I thought you were convinced that D’nel would make a good Weyrleader._

“He would,” Jack muttered.

 _Then what is the problem?_

“I don’t know, you big lizard. Tell me when you figure it out.” Jack scowled as he strode down the hallway to the echoes of silent dragon laughter in his head. Inconvenient mind-reading beast.

= = = = = = = = =

 _It will be tomorrow,_ Thoroth said two days later, as he and Jack were aloft watching the newly rearranged wings practice their maneuvers. M’chell’s Sodanth was doing a good job keeping an eye on the three new greens from Telgar in his formation, and D’nel’s new wingsecond seemed to be competent, if looking for direction a little more often than would be ideal in the middle of a Threadfall. Keteth’s manner of flying looked a little peeved, but Vala knew perfectly well that a green didn’t have the stamina or inborn authority to fly wingsecond on a permanent basis. It had nothing to do with lack of ability on the rider’s or the dragon’s part, just simple flight mechanics and dragon hierarchy. Jack dismissed her as a worry and looked further to the lowest flight level, where Samartha on Jolinath and her group of greens were executing a perfect grid sweep. That was encouraging.

 _Are you ignoring me, J’thon?_ Thoroth’s voice was sharp, though it hinted at amused.

 _Would I do that?_ Jack thought back at him.

 _Yes, Jack, you would._ Definite amusement there.

Jack rolled his eyes. _Well, you dragons always seem to know. Light meal for you tonight, then._

 _Weyrhealer Janessa does not think a higher flight necessarily means more eggs._

 _Well, we’ve been long enough without a clutch that none of us are taking chances. Besides, you just want to eat a whole herdbeast, you greedy lump._ Jack shook his head and then asked Thoroth to call Sodanth and Skaarath to bring their wings back to ground, and signaled the order to his own wingseconds as well.

He and Thoroth stayed aloft, watching the graceful motions of the wings below them as they landed in order of size, the greens and blues dropping first and tucking themselves away in the weyrs to get out of the way of the larger browns. That left only the handful of bronzes and the gleaming gold wheeling about and descending one by one.

Jack’s eyes tracked Skaarath’s movements as D’nel urged the others to land, his dragon’s elegant turns and economy of movement reminiscent of the way D’nel himself moved.

 _I like to watch them, too._ Thoroth’s affection came through the bond like a warm breeze. _D’nel and Skaarath are well matched. It would be a pleasure to fly with him._

Jack blinked. _You fly with Skaarath all the time. What do you call what we’ve just been doing?_

 _The other kind of flying,_ Thoroth’s laughter implied the unspoken “you dense human,” and he turned his massive head to fix Jack with a whirling eye.

“Oh!” Jack was startled into unnecessary speech, the sound of his voice whipped away by the wind, but the thought carried anyway. “Really? You would?”

 _You wouldn’t? D’nel would make a good weyrmate._

Jack sat back a bit in the straps. “That’s different.”

 _He is good for you. And you make him happy. How is it different?_

Jack gaped. _For one, you and Skaarath are both bronzes. No one has ever heard of two bronzes sharing a mating flight. Or two bronze riders, for that matter. And secondly, a mating flight is not exactly a commitment, anyway. It’s a far cry from asking someone to be your weyrmate._

Thoroth looked back at him with something like annoyance. _For a thing not to be heard of is not the same as saying it is not possible._

Jack shook his head. _Hundreds of Turns of history would argue on my side. Now, do you want that herdbeast or not?_

= = = = = = = =

The next morning dawned calm and pleasant, a small mercy that Jack spared a few moments to appreciate as he checked the air in the bowl, a large mug of klah in hand. As had been the case for every mating flight he’d ever witnessed, there was a kind of thrumming energy to the whole Weyr that had been building since last night. When he and Sarrah had been weyrmates she had laughed at Jack’s insistence that the dragons’ restlessness meant that he couldn’t sleep either, but Jack was certain of it. Last night had been no better—possibly worse in fact, as his short hours of sleep had been punctuated by intense dreams of Daniel’s gaze locked on his own, his familiar warm hands in unfamiliar but welcome places.

It was unsettling, and Jack was having trouble squaring such desires with the warmth he felt for his closest friend and strongest support. It was like waking up and realizing that the seven spires had all turned to fellis trees when you weren’t looking, dropping their soporific fruits into the lake below and drugging you with their fragrance alone.

He took a deep breath, only to let it out explosively when the very hand he’d been dreaming about plucked his mug right out of his grasp.

“Mmm,” D’nel sniffed appreciatively, then downed half of Jack’s klah. “Best way to start a morning.”

“Thief,” Jack scowled without any heat behind it. “Get your own.”

“Are you kidding? The kitchens are full of twitchy riders. Much quieter and more pleasant to just steal yours.”

“Are you twitchy?”

The other rider looked at him consideringly. “Not particularly. Whatever happens today, happens. Though I did have a rather surprising conversation with Thoroth last night.”

“You did.” Jack’s stomach twisted. “And what did the interfering lizard say?”

The other man was silent for a long moment.

“Daniel?” Somehow it was important right now, to use the name that only Jack used.

“I’m saying ‘yes,’” Daniel put the mug down on the nearby ledge and stepped just that much closer to Jack, until they were practically touching. “If that’s really what you’ve been wanting. Your weyrmate. I’ve always—“ Daniel ran a hand through his hair and scrunched his face up in exasperation at his own incoherence. “By the egg of Faranth, Jack, I’ve been yours since you shoved me out of the viewing stand all those years ago.”

Jack blinked. “And you’ve known…that long?”

Daniel snorted. “Of course not. I was a little preoccupied at the time. But Thoroth, Skaarath, and I have been waiting for you to catch up for a long while now. Fortunately for us, the dragons were out of patience.”

“Timing could have been better,” Jack said, putting a hesitant hand on Daniel’s shoulder, grip firming as Daniel turned into the touch.

Daniel gave a half-shrug with his other shoulder. “Weyr life goes on as it must,” he dismissed the growing noise from the assembling dragons with a flick of his wrist. “So are you going to kiss me or not, Weyrleader?”

Jack forwent the banter in favor of bringing his lips to Daniel’s. The other met him easily, tilting just enough that their equivalent heights didn’t result in a mashing of noses. Daniel’s hands slid around Jack’s waist and Jack closed his eyes. The twisting desire in Jack’s gut was dragon-based, but the phantom hand that gripped warmly around his heart was all Daniel’s doing, sparked into growing heat by Daniel’s full lips, his teasing tongue, and his sturdy muscles shifting under the leather of his riding gear.

 _It is time,_ Thoroth’s voice broke through Jack’s concentration with an urgency of his own. Across the bowl, Jolinath launched from her perch towards the wherry pens.

Jack reluctantly disengaged himself from Daniel, gulping air as if he’d spent too long _between_. “We should—“

D’nel’s lips quirked as he fell back into the reality of the moment. “I know. We should gather with the others before Jolinath bloods her kill, otherwise anyone left in the passageways will get an eyeful.”

Jack looked down at himself ruefully. “Might be too late for that.”

D’nel shook his head and chuckled. “We can pursue this later, if you still want. After the flight.”

Attractive as Samartha admittedly was, J’thon was not so bound to duty that he’d give up the chance of having D’nel for a weyrmate, mating flight or no mating flight.

As D’nel turned to leave, J’thon grabbed him by the wrist and forced him to look back.

“I’ll want,” Jack promised roughly.

Daniel smiled, a sweetly hopeful expression unlike any Jack had ever seen the other dragonrider bear.

“Then I’ll wait.”

= = = = = = =

Jolinath screamed her challenge back at her pursuers, and the crowded sky below her rang with the returned calls of the bronzes and few browns still in the chase.

On the ground, J’thon gripped the edges of the bench on which he sat, muscles straining in sympathy with Thoroth as he cut short his bellow to save breath for another sprint which would place him not only in front of, but firmly ahead of his competitors. The rider did not need to glance to his knuckles to know they were white, just as he needed no one to explain to him why Samartha’s leg grazed his or why D’nel pressed close on his other side.

There were a number of strong bronzes beating the air somewhere far above their heads right now, several still flying strong, but only Skaarath was on Thoroth’s wake like a fishbeast behind an Ista sloop.

J’thon hissed as Jolinath spun gracefully back on herself and shot over the heads of the bronzes, heading even further aloft. High flights might or might not guarantee a queen egg, but Samartha and Jolinath were clearly taking the under-population of High Reaches Weyr as a personal challenge.

Thoroth roared as he arched into the turn, and, surprisingly, after a split second so did Skaarath, at a timbre which Jack felt shiver straight into his bones. That was not the sound of a bronze warning another bronze off a queen. That was a bronze *calling to his mate,* and next to Jack, Daniel’s limbs spasmed with the fierceness of the emotion rolling over from Skaarath.

And then it was Jack’s turn to shake as Skaarath flew a loop around Thoroth and called again, shooting off at an angle to Jolinath’s flight and climbing nearly as high, just as fast. Thoroth bugled back in the same tones and wrenched his huge body about to chase Skaarath instead, and Jack found himself gasping for breath as Daniel’s hand closed in a desperate grip on Jack’s thigh.

 _Thoroth?_

“What—are—they—doing?” Jack ground out between short breaths that were doing nothing to solve the airless feeling in his chest. There was an exultant joy rippling through him from Thoroth, familiar from other flights in which he knew himself the ultimate winner even before the catch was firmly made. Jack blindly found Daniel’s hand with his own and gripped around the wrist, torn between holding it there to keep it safely motionless and dragging it further up where it might provide some relief.

“Daniel,” he tried again. “What—“

“Jack,” Daniel didn’t sound as if his air supply was any more reliable than Jack’s own. “I didn’t—“

Jack didn’t care what Daniel did or didn’t do—a rush of adrenaline flooded him and  
Jack’s burst of speed coincided with Thoroth’s own. With a mighty lunge, both rider and dragon had satisfying limbs full of muscle and hide in a moment, triumphant growls mentally indistinguishable as Jack and Daniel hit the floor and Thoroth and Skaarath snapped their wings out in parallel into a tight gliding spiral. It was a brilliant, exhilarating piece of aerial strength and aerobatics, and it was supposed to be *impossible.*

Though he couldn’t exactly *care* about it at the moment, Jack was aware that there was a rising level of noise around them. T’elk hadn’t left when Chulath dropped out of contention, sitting protective guard near Samartha, and now he put his bulk between her and the two bronze riders grappling on the ground. There were still others in the room, too, a handful of bronzes who hadn’t given up the chase yet, M’chell and some of the more experienced wingseconds, including M’touf of Lantath and N’rim of Tollath. The wingseconds were yelling, and M’chell was white-faced and completely silent. Samartha, after an incredulous stare, closed her eyes and turned her attention to Jolinath, who still flew, and the bronzes who hadn’t abandoned the queen flight.

But Thoroth and Skaarath had taken themselves out of contention in a spectacular way that would be the talk of every Weyr on Pern, quite possibly for Turns, and Jack was no longer Weyrleader. He let go his need to assess his surroundings and felt Thoroth’s exultation wash over him again, one last detail surviving the onslaught of emotion.

“Your weyr, now,” he muttered into Daniel’s neck, unable to stop clinging like a creeping vine. If they were going to be going through with this, it was enough of an insult to Samarth and Jolinath without it happening in her face in the Weyrwoman’s own chambers.

“Up,” Daniel shoved at him in uncoordinated urgency. “Move. Now.”

Later, Jack would be amused at the former harper’s descent into single syllables. Now he was just burning hotter than firestone.

It was a damn fine thing that Skaarath and Daniel’s weyr was close, because the stumbling progress they were making was painful in every way possible, unable to keep hands from bare skin where ever it could be found or claimed, elbows and knees crashing into each other and the stones, the exultant cries of their dragons ringing so loudly in their heads that Jack’s teeth hurt.

No sooner had they crashed through the entrance than Daniel broke free just long enough to tear off his shirt, and Jack followed suit, kicking off his boots with a viciousness they had surely not earned. He cared not a jot that Daniel was now hauling him through the smaller doorway towards the bed, biting surprisingly gently at his collarbone as if he wished he could twine his head around Jack’s neck the way Skaarath was Thoroth’s.

The dragons’ heat, Jack expected. Their affection was unprecedented.

“Never been good at following the rules,” Daniel muttered, tugging at Jack’s breeches with enough force to move Jack down the bed. Jack laughed and assisted, pulling Daniel’s weight on top of him once they were both naked.

 _Always admired that about you._

“Shells you did.”

“Did,” Jack insisted, only then realizing that Daniel had responded to a stray thought rather than a spoken one. Their understanding had always been good, but now—he reached out, through Thoroth, and *felt* Skaarath and Daniel there. If he’d been standing, he’d have fallen from the headiness of it all, and as it was he froze with the intensity of it. Daniel made an impatient noise, tangled his fingers in Jack’s and brought one hand to the pot on the table nearby, and the other hand around his hip.

Jack clutched what he’d been given and brought his head up the scant breath of space between them to kiss Daniel again, pulling Daniel so close that with the bond between them wide open, he could not tell which body was his own, even whether he was on the bed or hurtling mid air.

Someone’s fingers found the pot and their ultimate target, dragon-enhanced adrenaline providing increasing demand for speed, for immediate contact. Someone’s voice cracked on a longing howl and was answered with a hoarse claim.

It was like discovering open sky after spending your whole life flying about in a cavern, finally having room to just *go,* far and fast as you could without turning or crashing or doing anything but flying for the sheer joy of it all—and, better than anything else, flying like that with the one person you wanted most at your side, sharing in the madness of the moment.

Daniel grabbed Jack’s face in both hands and made the other rider look him in the eye, bringing them back to themselves as Jack felt himself seize and melt. Jack was certain there was a ridiculous expression on his face, but Daniel’s eyes held all the warmth they had ever had as he curled up and kissed Jack sweetly. Jack gratefully let Daniel draw him in to hold him close as they both shivered their way into calm.

In the outer chamber, two heavy thuds marked the arrival of their draconic companions and Jack shook his head briefly against Daniel’s shoulder, turning it into a sloppy gesture of affection when Daniel turned an inquisitive eyebrow on him.

“Quite the spectacle we provided today,” Jack said hoarsely. There were answering hums of smug agreement from the bronzes in the antechamber.

“Mmmm.” Daniel ran a hand through Jack’s hair, a thoughtful look on his face. “Any idea who ended up flying Jolinath?”

“My bet’s on Sodanth and M’chell.”

 _Chulath confirms it was Sodanth, J’thon, and that ‘at this time we need not concern ourselves with the running of the Weyr.’ T’elk asks that we tell you that some distraction will be expected of you both for the next several days._ Skaarath’s voice came through clearly, and with that same sense of affection towards Jack that Jack had noticed Thoroth bore towards Daniel just a few short days ago.

Daniel was smiling. “Think the new Weyrleaders will let a pair of…improbable…bronze riding weyrmates stick around to help fight Thread, maybe lead a wing of dragons or two?”

Jack relished the equal hoarseness to Daniel’s voice almost as much as the words spoken. He kissed the skin convenient to his lips and then hitched himself up on an elbow to get a better look at his mate.

“I say if they are kind enough to grant us a few days’ holiday, we should take advantage and consider our options later.”

Daniel pursed his lips. “Later?”

“Much later.”

Daniel’s eyebrows went up and then his grin turned wicked. “I can live with that.”

“Even if it means running away with me and starting our own weyr for deviant dragons and their riders?” Jack teased.

“Even if,” Daniel agreed, the dragons’ laughter lending echoes to the weight of his answer. “Now, if you think you can handle it, fearsome J’thon, rider of the victorious Thoroth, I’d say it’s time for you to hand over the reins for a while.”

Jack stirred as he felt Skaarath scratch Thoroth at the sensitive patch just behind the wing joint. He collapsed back to the bed as his dragon bent his head, each allowing Daniel and Skaarath to continue.

“Oh, believe me, we can handle it.”

Daniel dropped a kiss on his shoulder, and Jack could hear the promise in Daniel’s voice. “Well then, sounds like it’s time for me to take you flying.”

= = = = = = = = =  
“Apparently, despite the unusual circumstances, young N’yan thought I’d want klah this morning anyway. Found it just barely steaming, on the floor outside in the corridor. I think your latest, er, vocal efforts must have scared him off.” Daniel took a sip and then sat on the edge of the bed and held out the mug.

Grateful for his new weyrmate’s reliable habits, Jack accepted the outstretched glass and took a long draught before meeting Daniel’s eyes with a smirk.

“So, before the flight, you said something about *waiting?*”

Daniel blinked, startled into a short laugh. “I tried to tell you—I didn’t tell Skaarath to do that. I had no idea it was even doable.” His voice turned affronted. “I think our dragons have been holding out on us.”

Jack leered again and stretched, enjoying the way Daniel’s eyes tracked up and down. “Well, Thoroth assures me that it’s not only doable, but desirable, repeatable, and reversible, so I think you’re pretty much stuck with us.” Jack’s expression stretched to a broad grin as Daniel’s eyes went dark again and the mug was snatched from his hand and set down hard on the table.

“’The dragon decides,’ hmmm?” Daniel’s voice was speculative as the bed dipped a little under the solid mass of bronze rider. “Then I suppose you and Thoroth are stuck with Skaarath and me, as well, because Skaarath is as stubborn as they come.”

“Skaarath is.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Jack chuckled.

= = = = = =

In the growing light of the outer chamber, two bronze dragons coiled around each other in lazy self-satisfaction.

 _About time they got their heads out from under their wings,_ Skaarath’s eyes gleamed in amusement. _I told you they would work it out without us needing to mate to prove it to them. Though that was nice, too. Though I still wonder—_

Thoroth’s head lifted and he nudged the other with a snort. _So help me, Skaarath, if you start asking if we love because they do or the other way around, I will shove you out of your own weyr and Faranth help you on the way down._

Skaarath wrapped his tail around the other smugly.

 _Sure you will._

And Thoroth exhaled a dragon’s lungful of exasperation to the sound of human laughter ringing out from the inner chamber.


End file.
